


A single thought.  Or maybe a dream.

by anais_ninja



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cora's mistletoe poisoning, Cora/Stiles if you squint, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, The Hale Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anais_ninja/pseuds/anais_ninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora's thought during her brush with death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A single thought.  Or maybe a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a LONG time, and my first "Teen Wolf" fic period. So I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> I am just fascinated by the Hale family, and I want to know what they're all thinking all the time! This is just my little stab at that idea.

                In the mess of delirious thoughts Cora was having, each memory seemed to have strange emotional power, and every voice she heard brought up something new.

                Her uncle’s swearing and shouting for help made her think of Christmas decorations and no wolf powers allowed.  Had she been able to, she might have laughed at the image of siblings and cousins running around Peter like a maypole with fairy lights, holly, and ivy.

                Then a less familiar voice seemed to murmur in a corner about Peter being dead, and things started getting confusing: the emotions around her uncle and her sister and her brother and death and mom… _Mom, where are you?  I can’t see you, Mommy! Run, Cora, RUN!_...and her mother’s burnt hair melting into her still beautiful face.  Cora threw up, and it felt like her soul leaving her body.

                For a long time the world was just spinning and spinning and nowhere to stand still.  When things stopped moving for a second, all she could here were sounds of struggle, sounds like wrestling in the backyard with Laura.  They never laughed, not like she did when she wrestled Derek.  Somehow, this was for real.  Just no claws or teeth.  For real wasn’t all that real when you’re seven.  Each pin was a lesson, a humiliation or a victory.  And when mom said, “enough,” barely a huff of air amongst the grunts and groans, it always was enough.  Both sisters were satisfied, and then they laughed, and mom smiled like she knew something they didn’t.

                The spinning was back, and so many voices.  Derek was there.  And his…people.   Cora didn’t know exactly how to think of Scott and Stiles yet, but they felt like Derek’s.  And Jennifer was definitely Derek’s.  They weren’t really a pack, they just sort of belonged together.  Only something was shifting besides the contents of Cora’s stomach.  Jennifer didn’t sound like the woman she thought she knew.  Not like the woman from the loft a few days ago in the morning…

_“Knock, knock?”  And, Oh God, yes she had actually knocked on the incomplete brick partition that blocked of the part of the loft everyone respected as Cora’s.  “Um, sorry, but Derek said, maybe you could help me?  I mean, I don’t need a whole outfit, just a shirt,  I have a clean blazer in the car, and this skirt is fine, but I can’t do the walk of shame in front of your classmates or your teachers, not again,you have no idea what a bitches those French teachers are, I swear…so, shirt?”_

_The ramble came to that abrupt end because of Cora’s blank look, a Hale staple from a long way back during fibs and fights among the kids.  Just to be contrary, of course she was going to loan the twit a shirt, “are you saying you’re ashamed of sleeping with my brother?” Cora had to ask as she stood and wandered over to the single rack and several piles of clothes she called her wardrobe.  She saw Jennifer gearing up for another run-on sentence, very unsttractive in an English teacher she thought, but said, “don’t worry about it, he embarrasses me a lot too.  Here, it’s the only one with buttons, but it’s big on me, so you should be fine.”_

_A quiet, “thanks.”  And, “you know he loves you, right?  I mean, that’s why big brothers embarrass their little sisters.”  Oddly, Cora found herself sharing a small smile with her._

_Then, “here, I haven’t worn these yet, and I hear white cotton undies cancel out the walk of shame with their inherent purity.”_

                Suddenly, Cora wanted to puke again at the thought of purity and Jennifer, but the spinning was back. 

                And then… _nothing_. 

                And then coughing that felt like an essential part of her leaving again, but the dim realization that it was a coming back.  _Next time I put my lips to your mouth, you better be conscious…next time I put my lips to your mouth…next time…lips to your mouth…next time…._

                With the same level of barest awareness, she heard Stiles ramble, but something about _next time_ and _inherent purity_ and _The Walk of Shame_ kept trying to coelesce into a single thought.  Or maybe a dream.


End file.
